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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056803">Whumptober 2020</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsometime/pseuds/lostsometime'>lostsometime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Critical Role (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 20:48:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27056803</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostsometime/pseuds/lostsometime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Little snippets and scenes that aren't long enough to be stand alone one-shots.</p><p>Day 11: Defiance - Caleb has Opinions on torture.<br/>Day 12: Broken down - Essek and Caleb have a tough conversation.<br/>Day 22: Drugged/Poisoned - Molly and Caleb attend an interesting dinner party.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Essek Thelyss &amp; Caleb Widogast, Mollymauk Tealeaf &amp; Caleb Widogast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>99</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Day 11: Defiance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The last thing Caleb remembers is falling unconscious as a brutish guard did his level best to beat answers out of him.  He also remembers thinking that he might actually die here, under such an amateurish attempt at interrogation.  His return to wakefulness is slow, and accompanied by a terrible throbbing headache just above his left eye.  He thinks that’s from the brass-knuckled punch he was dealt earlier, which was probably the blow that knocked him out.</p><p>Some part of Caleb that still feels like Bren is noting with derision all the ways in which this situation reeks of common criminals too big for their boots, rather than anyone <em>properly </em>trained in interrogation.  Another part is calculating the time, and how long that means he’s been out, and how long it might be before the Nein get here.  Once, he might have despaired, thinking he was on his own; now, he’s confident that his friends will come for him.  It just might take a while, is the thing.</p><p>It’s not until someone before him drags his head up by his hair to peer into his face that he realizes his guard is not alone this time.  He’s accompanied now by a skinny, nervous-looking man with a thin mustache.  The man places one hand on his head and clutches a symbol of the Allhammer in the other, and Caleb’s headache fades.  <em>Oh</em>, he thinks, <em>a cleric</em>.  <em>I get it</em>.</p><p>Then the guard drives a knife through the back of his hand and he screams through gritted teeth.  The guard smiles coldly as the cleric heals this wound as well.</p><p>“You might as well just tell us what we want to know,” he says smugly.  “As long as my partner’s here, we can just keep doing this all day.”</p><p>Caleb makes a faint hiccupping sound, which the guard thinks at first might be sobbing, but when he speaks his voice is steady.</p><p>“So your boss gave you a cleric to be your buddy.  You know what that means, don’t you?”</p><p>“It means we can hurt you as much as we want for as long as we want, and there’s nothing you can do about it – not even die.”</p><p>“It <em>means</em>,” Caleb continues, undeterred, “that your boss doesn’t trust that you can do this and not <em>fuck it up.”</em></p><p>He makes the strange hiccupping noise again, and the guard realizes it’s a laugh.  He steps forward and backhands his prisoner across the face.</p><p>“Sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just… I have not needed a healer to, to <em>supervise</em> an interrogation since I was <em>sixteen</em>… no, I’m sorry, you are doing very well, really.  Very intimidating.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Day 12: Broken Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Essek opens his door to Caleb’s knock and immediately sees a storm brewing in the set of his jaw.  “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Caleb swallows, with some difficulty.  “We need to talk.”</p><p>Essek gestures him inside, closing the door behind him and, after a moment’s thought, engages some of the arcane protections hidden within the frame.  Caleb’s tone concerns him, and he doesn’t want any unnecessary interruptions.  “Well?”</p><p>“I’m here on behalf of… of all the Mighty Nein,” Caleb begins, speaking quickly as though he has memorized his lines and is eager to get them out.  “They – <em>we – </em>are… concerned, about your continued contact with the Assembly.”</p><p>“It’s just sharing research.  I have no interest in pursuing any further involvement with them; that I can promise you.”</p><p>“I know, I – frankly, Essek, even sharing research is more of a hold over you than I think they should have.”</p><p>“What would you have me do?  Write to Ludinis now, after three years, after <em>everything, </em>and tell him not to bother sending any further information, I’ve had enough?”</p><p>Caleb doesn’t say yes.  But he doesn’t say no, either.</p><p>“Caleb, that’s insane!  The beacon they’re working with now isn’t even stolen, there’s no <em>reason </em>not to collaborate on it.  There is no, no <em>blood </em>on this one, no one has <em>died </em>for it, there are no – no lost souls inside it waiting to be reborn, it’s not <em>hurting anyone</em> to study it, and you think I should refuse <em>on principle</em>?  Where is this coming from, Caleb?”</p><p>“Some of the others are concerned – and I do not entirely disagree – that continuing to benefit from this deal is perhaps at odds with your stated desire to help us… untangle webs.  To grow beyond… who you were, when you made the deal.”</p><p>“I--” For a moment, Essek looks like someone has struck him – a pain almost eclipsed by the shock of it.  “Caleb, I – I do want to help you.  To <em>make things better</em>, as you put it.  But I, I cannot see how throwing out years of research is going to make anything better.  If I stop – “benefiting from this deal” – will that un-kill any of the people slain in the war?  Will it comfort their families?  Put food in the bellies of their widows and orphans?  Tell me, Caleb, how I can make these things <em>better</em> and I’ll do it, I swear to you, I will.  But if you just want me to, to <em>suffer</em>, to sacrifice the things I value to no end but to make myself <em>unhappier</em>, then I – I-”  Essek’s voice has grown noticeably louder, his accent thicker as he becomes agitated, but now he blinks several times and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths before continuing in his usual soft tenor.  “I don’t know if I can do that.  I’m sorry.  Caleb, I’m sorry.”  He’s blinking rapidly now, but it’s no longer enough to prevent humiliated, frustrated tears from falling.  “I don’t – I think – I’m sorry, but I <em>can’t</em>.”</p><p>Essek turns his face away as if trying fruitlessly to hide his emotions, and Caleb – Caleb doesn’t know what to do.  He’d thought he’d seen Essek at his lowest, his most vulnerable, that night on the ship.  He hadn’t imagined this.  He’s not sure <em>how </em>he expected this conversation to go – badly, yes, definitely, but in what way he couldn’t say – but certainly he hadn’t imagined <em>this</em>.  He is frozen for a moment, unsure what to do.  Then, he ventures a step forward.  Pauses, to give Essek a chance to step away if he wants.  Another step.  Another pause.  Finally, he’s near enough to hesitantly, awkwardly wrap one arm around Essek’s shoulders.  Essek stiffens for a moment but does not pull away, and Caleb tries embracing him with the other arm, too.  He still feels like he’s doing it wrong, but it doesn’t seem to matter, as tension gradually seeps out of Essek, leaving him loose and slump-shouldered in Caleb’s grasp.  He can feel the other man sob where he’s pressed against his chest, but he makes no sound, and Caleb’s heart breaks for him.  He knows the kinds of things that can teach a man to weep silently – none of them good.</p><p>“No,” he murmurs, not even sure if Essek can hear him.  “No, I don’t want that.  That’s not what I want.  I don’t know – but we’ll figure it out.  We can figure it out.”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Day 22: Poisoned/Drugged</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Molly and Caleb attend a dinner party.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>He’s been drugged</em>.  The thought comes to him, slow and sticky as molasses. The fork falls from his hand, his fingers suddenly feeling thick and clumsy.  Once it registers, Mollymauk quickly begins noticing other signs that his food or wine has been tampered with, things that hadn’t seemed important until just now.  The way his eyelids feel heavy.  A certain dryness to his mouth.  Even this, his creeping realization that he’s been drugged, is a symptom – he should be far more alarmed than he is.  Mostly he’s feeling kind of annoyed.  <em>It’s not even a good trip</em>, he thinks, grabbing on to that thread of thought as it gradually slips through his mind.  <em>Slippery</em>, he thinks, making a noise like a snort that made it halfway to a laugh, <em>my thinking’s all slippery.</em></p><p>Still, he’s aware enough to know that it’s worrisome, that he’s been drugged – or at least, he knows it <em>should </em>be, and the way he’s <em>not </em>worried should only worry him more.  Molly reaches for the magic he knows is in his blood and tries to purge the sedative, whatever it is, from his system.  <em>That </em>feels slippery too, like it’s almost too much effort.  He frowns, brow furrowing in concentration as he grabs for whatever power is in his veins and <em>pulls</em>.</p><p>The eye-mark on the back of his hand bursts open in a spray of blood, and almost immediately, Molly feels his head clear.  He remembers exactly <em>why </em>it’s a bad thing that he’s been drugged at the dinner table of a politically important member of the Menagerie Coast underworld.  He’s not sure what to <em>do</em>, though – not sure how the Mighty Nein have managed to make enemies of these people they don’t know, not even sure that he and his friends were the intended targets.</p><p><em>Caleb,</em> he thinks, <em>Caleb understands this political nonsense</em>.  He goes to catch Caleb’s eye, where he’s sitting across the table, and is just trying to figure out if it would be too obvious if he prodded at his ankle with the tip of his tail to grab his attention, when Caleb tenses noticeably. <em>Not drugged</em>, Molly realizes with growing horror, as Caleb’s breathing gets harsher and shallower before his eyes.  <em>Not drugged</em>, he thinks, as he watches Caleb begin to seize, diving across the table to try and catch him as he falls to the floor.<em>  Poisoned.</em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This grew out of the headcanon that it's harder to poison bloodhunters because of their weird blood chemistry and turned into Caleb whump because I am predictable.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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